


Release Mechanisms

by Rrrowr



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dom Scott, Dom/sub, M/M, Restraints, Spanking, Sub Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:52:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rrrowr/pseuds/Rrrowr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills after a long time away and takes a moment to get something he wants. Scott welcomes him home with something he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Release Mechanisms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [canistakahari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Make Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/693303) by [canistakahari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari). 



Technically, this isn't supposed to be for Scott. The truth is that things have been too busy for them to see each other the way that they want. There's still their regular hanging out now and then, but between Stiles traipsing off to college and Scott staying back at Beacon Hills for work, they haven't been able to do anything other than the odd skype call. Stiles _misses_ Scott sometimes. Enough to do things like this:

Sneaking into Scott's house is easy. He's had the key for nearly a year now and Mrs. McCall's known for months already without changing the locks, so he figures he's welcome to come and go as he pleases. Being in Scott's room is always a little weird without him there — too quiet and empty without Scott there to suck up all of Stiles' attention — Stiles makes do. 

He's no werewolf. Stiles can't smell things the way they do, but he likes the idea of being able to. He presses his face into Scott's sheets and his pillows. There's a smell to them, and though Stiles is no good at discerning the qualities of it, he thinks he smells the lingering notes of Scott's body spray and maybe detergent from their recent wash. They're going to smell like sweat and come when Stiles is done here, he hopes.

Scooting around naked on Scott's bed has a sort of forbidden taste now that he's not doing it on Scott's say-so. More so when Stiles pulls out a few lengths of rope to bind his left ankle and wrist together. Bondage on his own has been sort of disappointing without the Scott element directly involved. Not _terrible_ per se... Just lacking without Scott's solid demeanor to keep him grounded. 

But _this_. Even when the bondage is something simple, and he can still splay his legs wide across Scott's bed and push up on one knee while he yanks at his cock and hide his face against the blankets. There's an element of forbidden here, thinking about Scott coming home after Stiles has already left and knowing that he was there. Maybe Scott would get hard over it. Maybe he'd put his face in the sheets and rub his dick against the wet spot Stiles leaves behind. Maybe he'd find Stiles later and make him pay for dirtying up his bed.

It's just been so long since he's been here. Returning to Beacon Hills doesn't feel like _coming home_ without this too. A gift he's giving Scott and himself, and as Stiles' runs his fingers along the space behind his balls, he shudders, twisting against the bonds. They burn somewhat, tightening against his skin and sure to leave marks, and Stiles gasps, grabbing the base of his dick. It's been too long, perhaps, and he's doing such a naughty, naughty thing.

Stiles groans as he takes his hand off his dick and then sharply, abruptly slaps his hand up against his thigh. His palm smacks loudly against his skin, makes his leg warm and his dick hard and his spine languid, but it's not quite right — it's not where he needs it, and Stiles lays there, squirming for a bit, before trying again. The second spank is higher, across his hip, and Stiles pants his frustration into the sheets even though his dick jumps with interest. It's still not quite right, though. There's not enough power and the angle isn't centered well and —

A hand settles across the divots of Stiles' spine, and a second elicits a powerful crack against the swell of his ass. Stiles jerks and goes rigid with the shock of it as the pain skitters across his nerves and the hot flush of blood chases after it, blossoming under his skin. The hand that spanked him splays broadly across his cheek and squeezes it, and Stiles twists around hopefully, praying to god that it is exactly who he thinks it is.

There's only one person he knows who can hit him just right, without going too far or too hard — who remains aware of Stiles' humanity without being afraid to push the limits of it. 

"This is a surprise," Scott says, smiling fondly. "You didn't tell me you were coming back today." The hand on Stiles' spine slides up to cup the back of his neck, tightening around Stiles' nape until Stiles sinks back into position with his ass arching high into Scott's still squeezing fingers.

"I know," Stiles says roughly, voice thick. He's hyperaware of Scott wearing his clothes from work — that the rough scrape of cloth against his legs are from Scott's jeans, that Scott's tshirt is pressing soft against his hip. "Sorry. I didn't—"

Another smack to Stiles' ass strangles his words in his throat, and his voice transitions cleanly into a keening cry. 

"You're sensitive," Scott remarks. He drags his nose along Stiles' ribs, breathing deeply. "You haven't been at it too long, but you're really on edge already. Did you miss me that much?" Stiles can hear a modest amount of smugness in the lilt of his questioning.

"You mean, you haven't missed me too?" Stiles replies, knowing immediately that it's definitely not the case. He likes hearing Scott say it, though. He likes knowing that Scott's as into this as he is.

"Of course I missed you," Scott says, "but then I came home to find you gift-wrapped on my bed, and you're hard and you smell so eager for it." His hand scoops between Stiles' legs and strokes over the wet length of Stiles' cock. "I think I can take my time now that I have you."

Stiles shivers. "No, please—"

Even so, Stiles bows under Scott's touch, opens up to his kisses. He's starving for all the things he's missed while he's been away. No one can take Stiles over the way Scott does, and Stiles aches for the way Scott fills up the longing, empty spaces inside him with his presence, with his words and his body. The desperation with which he submits to Scott should probably be embarrassing, but Scott's threat to take his time is a hard one to follow through today. His touch is rough and everywhere, leaving tiny bruises across Stiles' body as he pushes Stiles' thighs to his chest and fucks in as deep as he can go.

"I missed you," Stiles gasps between thrusts, lashes dipping low when Scott's hand comes to rest across his collar bones. He feels dizzy and wonderful as he looks up at his best friend, and his smile turns downright euphoric when Scott's other hand curves over the loops of rope still binding Stiles' wrist and ankle together. "Scott—"

"Keepin' you for good," Scott murmurs.

A flush burns across Stiles' skin. "Please," he whispers.

"Never letting you go," Scott says. "Doesn't matter how far you go, okay? I've always got you."

Stiles nods frantically, breath tight as Scott bears down on him, driving the pleading moans out of his lungs until there's nothing left of him but languid laxity of his bones and the warm glow of satisfaction. Scott undoes the ropes with shaky fingers and rubs the feeling back into his toes and fingers. Then he's laying alongside Stiles, kissing him sweetly while Stiles is too tired to do anything more than accept the kisses gratefully. 

Scott smiles, petting Stiles' hair like he's some kind of pup. "Welcome home," he says.

Stiles hums happily, lifts his chin to get more kisses. "Good to be back."

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY HELEN. NOW YOU.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I Pray You Find It (On Your Instinct)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/704307) by [canistakahari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari)




End file.
